


Good as I to You

by luna_sol



Category: Instinct (2019), Trust (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Bondage, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dry Orgasm, Dubious Consent, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Unrepentant Filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:33:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luna_sol/pseuds/luna_sol
Summary: Primo has always been a man of vision, of power: he built his empire from the ground up, prying it from the hands of his feeble, unimaginative uncle. He never loses, but he has also never come across an obstacle like Idris.And Idris is determined to show Primo who's boss.
Relationships: Primo Nizzuto/Idris van Leeuwen
Comments: 29
Kudos: 68





	Good as I to You

**Author's Note:**

> This dumpster fire of a fic is dedicated to the All and More Discord server, especially the multiverse and tavern patrons. Thank you for your encouragement (and now I demand validation!).
> 
> Please heed the "Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings" as a blanket trigger warning, and if you somehow miss that, then the "Dead Dove: Do Not Eat." If there are any tags that you think I missed otherwise, let me know! And I'm not sure if it needs to be said, but I don't condone this behaviour in real life. 
> 
> Now then, please enjoy your unrepentant filth. <3
> 
> Nov 24 edit: And the biggest thanks to Aqua for noticing my missing section, I love you~ (comes after "Ask for it.")

Primo wakes slowly, buoyed by the warm, wet mouth on his dick. He hums in pleasant surprise; he wasn’t expecting anything of the sort and had not gone to bed with anyone, which means - Ada must want something. It’s a pleasant wake-up call, the tongue going at him is certainly artful, but the hands on his hips are too wide to be Ada’s. It pins him to the bed and he has no leverage to thrust. It’s only when he means to move his hand down, pet the head that’s so thoroughly pleasuring him, that the _wrongness_ of everything hits. He can’t move his hands. 

It jostles him to full-consciousness and his eyes snap open, landing on the intruder. 

“Idris,” he says, voice hoarse from sleep and dark as tar. He buries his rising anger - there should have been no reason for his men to have let Idris into his residence, much less his bedroom, not unless something happened to them, which means yelling would be of no help. 

Idris pulls off with a pop, “ _ciao_ , bello.”

Idris is looking up at him from between his thighs and the look could be called “adoring” on any other individual. One thumb is stroking lightly at Primo’s hipbone, for all the grip is pinning him into place. Primo’s leg kicks out almost instinctively; it’s too much to hope that he lands a hit on Idris, but maybe at least, it’ll get him to loosen his hold.

The corresponding hand lifts from Primo’s hip and seizes his leg before it makes contact. There’s a brutal squeeze and then Primo’s leg is back on the bed, Idris’s hand a vice-grip under the knee. Distantly, Primo recognizes that it was a bad move and he’s not thinking things through - Idris now has more leverage over him - but he’s so angry. (And Idris’s eyes are blazing above him, so much heat that it feels tangible against Primo’s skin.) 

He bares his teeth up at the interloper; it’s not like Primo hasn’t won fights with more disadvantages. He yanks at his bindings, fucker has his arms tied to the bed posts on either side - how did he manage this without waking Primo? 

There is no give. 

“Hey, bello, stop, you’ll hurt yourself.” Idris slides up his body, sinuous like a cobra and muscles rippling. His face is right above Primo’s now, thick forearms on either side of Primo’s head, and his full weight settling down on Primo’s pelvic region, ass flush against Primo’s dick.

And the most irritating thing is, beside Idris’s liquid fucking eyes looking at Primo in consternation, is that Primo is still hard as a rock and it’s not gone unnoticed by the man above him.

Idris rocks down against Primo’s cock once and gives a full-body shiver. “Let’s save that for next time, yeah?”

Primo allows himself to affect a bored look and sink back into his mattress, “Well, get it over with then, I have things to do today.” He knows how to get at the man above him too, it isn’t a one-way street. 

Sure as anything, Idris’s eyes flare with anger at being dismissed so easily. His lips attack Primo’s with a fervour and he wrenches Primo’s jaw open, tongue sweeping through like he owns it. Primo bits down, hard enough to taste blood, but not enough to take the tongue off like he could have.

Idris is smiling above him, teeth bloody and eyes glittering. “Like a little pain with your pleasure, baby? So do I.”

Fuck, Primo may have miscalculated. 

Idris is still above him, eyes cold and reptilian, nothing of the fake warmth a few minutes ago. A hand closes easily around Primo’s neck, and starts applying pressure. Primo doesn’t thrash until he has to - won’t give Idris that satisfaction of him struggling, or of that slight fear that’s niggling at the back of his mind. No use yelling for help that won’t come either. His hands pull uselessly at his restraints and he bucks up, trying to unseat Idris, to no avail. There are spots dancing across his eyes and Idris is the one humming now, but he seems distracted and his balance off-centre, not that Primo can do anything with that now. 

The hand loosens its grip slightly and Primo gulps in air. He doesn’t know how long the reprieve will last. 

“Your lips are so gorgeous, Primo, darling,” Idris coos above him, and without thought, Primo’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. Idris moans above him and his hand flexes to pry open Primo’s jaw.

He’s expecting for Idris to kiss him again, maybe he’ll even forgo the biting this time, but all Idris does is trace his own tongue across Primo’s lips. It’s more intimate and arousing than it should be, all things considered. Primo mirrors the shudder that Idris makes.

Idris’s hand moves up more, long fingers easily reaching the hinge of Primo’s jaw, and pressing to keep his mouth open. It’s now that Primo gets his first look at what Idris was distracted with earlier and he struggles to close his mouth. 

“Shhh,” Idris says, other hand easily forcing the rubbery material into his mouth and once it’s propped open, both hands efficiently secure the gag into place. It would have been better if the damn thing was solid. “There, no need to make things difficult. You’re enjoying this after all.”

The cock that pushes itself into Primo’s mouth shouldn’t take him by surprise, but it does. It fits through the hole of the o-ring seamlessly, pushing the silicone to bend with him, fucking deeper into Primo’s mouth with each thrust.

“It’s not my favourite, but I wouldn’t want you to accidentally injure yourself on the spider gag,” Idris says above him, hips never slowing down. “Next time though.”

Idris reaches back and there is a single, solitary stroke down Primo’s dick and he is dizzy with lust. His erection never flagged, not even a little. He’s never been this powerless before, not in any encounter, and it thrills him beyond words.

Idris’s hand comes away wet with the amount of precome that Primo was leaking and ignoring up until now. Primo watches as Idris brings his own hand up to his mouth and licks at it with small, kittenish flicks of his tongue. 

Each flick is punctuated with a thrust to the back of Primo’s throat, and he moans with it, drooling sloppily around his open mouth.

“There we are, bello. Knew you were enjoying yourself.” 

Primo would bite if he could at those words; as it is, one canine scrapes the top of Idris’s cock and he grunts as he shoves all the way forward and stays there for a moment, savouring the pain.

“You want more, baby?” Idris asks, breathlessly, as he pulls back. The glittering in his eyes seem to take on a newer, more deviant light. “I’ll give it to you.”

Idris’s hands fist in Primo’s hair, pulling his face forward as he _shoves_ in and Primo gags. Idris is in deeper than before, thick and heavy in his throat, and Primo feels his throat trying to close around the intrusion, he can’t _breathe_. 

Idris pulls out, and Primo gasps, trying to suck in air, before Idris plunges back in - hips snapping a steady rhythm - quick, quick, quick - and Primo is left gasping each time, barely able to suck in half a breath before Idris is there again, dick lodging in Primo’s throat.

“You like this, don’t you, sweetheart?” Idris says above him. “Want me to feed you my cock and use your gorgeous fucking mouth. Don’t even care if I choke you out. _You want it_.”

There’s a high-pitched noise that Primo hears when Idris grinds in again, deep and staying there, so long this time that Primo is sure he will pass out. As he convulses, a finger reaches down to trace the shape of the dick finding its home in Primo’s throat. His body rebels and he tries to shake Idris off, but even the one hand left gripping his head is like steel. It’s only when Idris pulls out again that Primo realizes the noise is _himself whining_.

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart, I got you. Just a little more.” Idris pets Primo’s hair gently, a mockery of affection. “Breathe.”

Even with the warning, Primo doesn’t have enough air when Idris shoves his way in again, a single hand holding his head in place. Above him, Idris makes a thoughtful sort of noise and Primo feels a pillow placed under his raised head - like that’ll be a lot of help with Primo choking on the end of Idris’s dick, desperately trying to get air into his lungs. Primo shudders, grey spots in his vision, and he presses his tongue up against the underside of Idris’s erection.

Idris pulls off abruptly with a grunt, swearing, and Primo manages to suck in two heaving gasps of air before Idris uses his other hand to _feed his dick through the o-ring_ , slow and measured. Hips sink all the way forward and Primo gags when Idris’s cock hits the back of his throat. Idris groans above him, deep and guttural, not applying any pressure but just staying there until Primo’s throat _gives_. Primo breathes shallowly through his nose, throat squeezing around the cock with every breath as he simply _holds_ Idris’s cock in place.

“Knew you could take it, so fucking good, your mouth,” Idris praises, panting as if he was the one short of breath. When he pulls off this time, there’s a long string of saliva that connects Primo’s swollen mouth to the weeping head of Idris’s cock. The look on Idris’s face is absolutely feral, and he swoops in to kiss Primo, yanking his head taut by the roots of his hair. It takes him a second to get annoyed by the gag.

“I’m going to take this off, bello, but you have to promise not to bite.”

Primo packs in all the scorn he can in his eyes, mouth still open wide and drooling. Idris smirks as he unclasps the back of the gag. “Well, I don’t mind the pain if you don’t.”

He pulls the gag out surprisingly gently, but that doesn’t stop Primo from swearing up a storm. Idris indulges him all of three sentences before a large hand squeezes Primo’s neck again. It is a surprisingly effective deterrent though Idris lets go immediately.

There’s a dangerous glint in those eyes and Primo is instantly wary. He knows what comes of looks like that - he’s given those looks before - to conquests, to _prey_. Primo has been don for nigh on twenty years, ruling over Calabria with absolute power, and he has **never** been subject to a look like this before, not even in his uncle’s days. (And a small, twisted part of him, _loves_ it.)

“Main course then, darling? You should just say.” Idris slithers down, kneeling in the v of Primo’s unbound legs, one hand pressing down on a hip and the other going directly to Primo’s ass.

Idris presses a finger in, dry, and it catches on Primo’s outer rim. He sucks in a breath, helpless and knowing it, dizzy with arousal.

“Idris,” he says, careful to modulate his voice and not show any aggression, not to snap like he desperately wants to.

“You want something, sweetheart?” Idris’s smile is saccharine and simpering, eyes glittering with malice. “Ask for it.”

Primo hears the underlying message loud and clear - _beg for it_. This is why the fucker removed the gag, to hear him beg. Primo’s traitorous cock twitches and leaks against his stomach - which doesn’t escape Idris’s notice either.

“There is lu- ” Primo is cut off as Idris pushes in his finger just that little further, not deep enough yet to hurt, but enough to make his implications clear.

“Yes, Primo? Stretch you open like this?”

Primo takes in a deep breath and lets it back out. While this would have been a courtesy to them both, it would definitely be more beneficial to Primo. He can suffer through this humiliation, no one else has to know. He banks the rage deep inside him; he’ll get through this just like everything else, and then he’ll kill the brazen fucker, just like everyone else who’s gotten in his way.

“Idris, there’s lube in the drawer.” Primo affects a demure look, one that hasn’t been used since he submitted to his uncle, tilting his head to the side and looking down. There’s a long moment where nothing happens and Primo fucking knows what Idris wants so he spits it out in the same, soft tone, “please.”

“Darling.” Idris grips Primo’s jaw in one large hand and turns it so that Primo is staring right at Idris’s face. There is a rictus of a grin playing along those lips, “you only have to ask.”

The finger inside withdraws and Idris leans over to the nightstand in question, rifling through the top drawer until he finds the lube. He opens the bottle with little ceremony, squirting it onto his right hand. He rubs it through his fingers a few times, not going directly for Primo’s ass this time, but Primo doesn’t relax until Idris returns with just one wet finger. 

Idris prepares him with more care than expected, index finger just rubbing small circles, again and again, keeping the lightest of pressures up until Primo presses back against that finger, tired of the teasing. It goes in slowly, and the few first thrusts are shallow, easy in and out motions, that don’t do anything. They barely stoke the fire in Primo and he _knows_ it doesn’t do anything for Idris.

“Harder, stronzo,” he hisses. 

“Slut,” Idris says, affectionate as anything, and leans forward with a kiss. Primo kisses back with tongue and teeth in his prone position, pushing back in the best way he has now. He sucks Idris’s lower lip in and bites, a parody of affection, and he sees Idris’s eyes blaze.

The effect is instantaneous - Idris plunges in with two fingers, scissoring them open wide - it is too much, too soon and it _burns_. But none of that matters because Idris is _twisting_ those fingers expertly and pushing into _that_ spot and Primo groans with satisfaction. 

The noise must set Idris off, because there’s a squirt of cool gel against his ass, and Idris is already pressing in with a third finger. Primo’s entrance is so soaked with lube that it positively squelches; for all that Idris was teasing earlier, he isn’t anymore, fingers driving in hard and fast, fucking him open.

“Fucking _slut_ ,” Idris hisses, as he pulls his fingers out roughly. Primo will deny that he whimpers at the loss, but it isn’t long before he feels the blunt tip of Idris’s erection at his entrance, pressing in with all the subtlety of the man himself.

“You can take it,” he growls, voice like ground glass, and shoves all the way in. Primo’s body spasms around the intrusion, pain and pleasure skittering across his nerves. Idris settles flush against his ass, not even waiting for him to adjust before he pulls back and starts to thrust. The sounds are wet and obscene, Idris hitting his prostate on every pass, and Primo moans for it, but it isn’t what he wants. It feels like an itch that isn’t being scratched properly. 

“ _Oh_.” Idris chuckles, there’s a triumphant light in his eyes now. “You _want_ to like it.”

Idris withdraws completely, leaving Primo gaping and _wanting_ , and rearranges his limbs until Primo is bent as far as he’ll go. Idris growls, snatching a pillow and sticking it under Primo’s back, and then tilts him up and back.

Primo swears in Italian, he’s not meant to bend like this, but Idris tosses Primo’s legs over his shoulders as he plunges back in. The new angle is a revelation and Primo shouts with it.

“There you go, baby.” Idris’s grip is bruisingly tight on the underside of Primo’s knees, as he batters Primo’s prostate. Primo tries to push back to meet him, but finds that he can’t. All he can really do is writhe on the bed and yell at Idris, which he does. Loudly. It’s _good._

He’s so close when Idris stops and presses a quaint little kiss to Primo’s left ankle, and then his right ankle. Idris stops his thrusts to shift both legs over his left shoulder, forearm clamping around them like a vice. Primo’s brain is too addled with lust to catch the significance of this until Idris’s right hand comes forward and grips his leaking cock in an unforgiving grip. 

“Not just yet for this though, sweetheart.”

Primo can’t get the leverage to kick the fucker in the face, calves barely making a dent in Idris’s back. 

“Vattela a pigliare in culo,” Primo spits out. And then positively _howls_ as Idris slams into him again, fucking _rolling_ his hips and grinding the head of his cock in at just the right angle. 

“You want to come? Say please,” Idris says around a grin, hand loosely wrapped around Primo’s dick.

Primo bares his teeth at him, and clenches down, managing to wiggle himself just that little further down onto Idris’s cock - he hears the hiss Idris makes in response. Primo’s already begged once tonight, he will not do it again.

“Primo, darling, you still want to play games at this point?” Idris asks, voice rasping and deadly. He sounds out of control and Primo revels in it. Except then he smiles, teeth on full display and sharp as a blade. “Fine.”

If Primo thought Idris had been fucking him with all his strength earlier, he was clearly wrong. Idris rams into him now, hard and punishing against his abused prostate with a dedication that would be worrying, if it didn’t feel so good. Primo will never admit it, but he mewls with each successive thrust. Idris’s hand is jacking him off at a similar pace, each pass of the sensitive crown on the underside coinciding with each hit of his prostate. 

The sensation is sublime - just on the edge of too much - and then, Idris leans forward and _bites_ at the juncture of his throat, sending him careening over the precipice. Primo seizes up, whole body locked in an orgasm so powerful his breath is knocked out of him, unable to even cry out.

Idris has angled his dick so that Primo splatters only himself with the force of his release and Primo would be otherwise annoyed, except Idris is still fucking into him, at a gentler pace, through the aftershocks, keeping his hand tight around his dick. Primo rides the pleasure for as long as he can; he has a bit of a hedonistic streak, so what?

Except, Idris doesn’t stop. He keeps fucking him through the aftermath of his orgasm, and Primo can’t even fight back - his weak thrashing easily batted aside. Idris is solid and huge in front of him - and in him - grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Primo swears and grits his teeth, trying to power through it; he’s an oversensitive bundle of nerves at this point and it hurts. 

And all Idris does, is keep driving into him with the same, steady precision as earlier. Primo recognizes the whine this time as it slips out, heat curling up his spine again, legs shaking in their position over Idris’s shoulder. In fact, his entire body is shaking from over-stimulation, so Primo just rests his full weight on Idris, sinking into the bed, and the asshole just takes it on like it makes no difference. 

He’s not fucking Primo like he’s chasing after his own orgasm even. He’s fucking Primo like he has a point to prove. Primo almost wishes he had set aside his pride earlier and just fucking said ‘please’ - too late now. Primo doesn’t realize how close he was to tears until Idris leans in and licks a line from his cheek up to the corner of his eye. 

“Bellissimo,” Idris says, soft and genuine. At least the asshole knows how to properly conjugate basic endearments even if he can’t speak the language.

Idris leans down to brush his lips over Primo’s and then kisses him in full, tongue sliding inside, greedy and ravenous. Primo doesn’t bother to bite this time - anything to take his mind off of the overwhelming sensations coursing throughout his body, nerve endings singing with pleasure-pain. Primo is a quivering mess, aching and needy; it’s too soon but he feels close to another orgasm already.

“Oh,” Idris says, when he pulls back and Primo is already wary, lips curling back in a snarl. He does not like this exhalation, not when it sounds like Idris has discovered all of Primo’s secrets. “Like I said, sweetheart, I know what you want. I’ll give it to you.”

“Just finish in me,” Primo snarls. “Like _I_ said, I have other things to be doing today.”

Idris is the one to snarl this time as he picks up the pace again. “Other things to do? Who else could give it to you like this?” Every word is punctuated with a vicious jab to his prostate. “Who else could ever fuck you as good as me? 

Primo doesn’t deign that with a verbal answer, mostly because he can’t draw breath, so he uses the haughty look that he’s perfected over countless meetings with the other families. The one that says his opponent is so far beneath him, it’s barely worth his notice. It incites the same anger in Idris as it does with everyone else - only Idris is not afraid to show his anger: his eyes go flat and glacial again.

He pulls out - Primo is left _empty_ and clenching around air - and that will not abide. The asshole hadn’t even stopped fucking him through his orgasm - what the hell is he pulling out for now? Primo’s legs twitch uselessly where they’re held against Idris, heels trying to dig in but not finding enough purchase - neither to hurt, nor to force Idris back _in_ , che cazzo.

“Greedy little thing. Shhh, don’t worry, I’ll give it to you.” Idris follows through with his demeaning words by shoving three fingers back inside Primo. They’re good, agile and dexterous in a way that cocks aren’t, but not nearly solid enough for what he wants. 

But they unerringly find that spot within him, and start rubbing, firm and insistent and all too soon, Primo feels out of his mind with the building pleasure. He doesn’t have the mental capacity to restrain himself anymore - eyes fluttering shut, he tosses his head back and moans, loud and unabashed.

There’s a soft sigh above him and Idris leans forward to kiss him again; Primo allows it, even kissing back lazily. He’s feeling magnanimous considering how tied up he still is, drunk on bliss. He doesn’t even bother kicking when Idris repositions his legs, throwing one over each shoulder again. It’s nice and changes the angle _just so_ that it hits so much better (it also leaves him wide open and Primo will never admit to liking the vulnerability as well). 

Heat prickles along his awareness and despite not being hard, Primo can taste this second orgasm in his throat already, full body trembling as Idris thoroughly works his prostate. 

“You didn’t answer me, sweetheart.” There is a wide, knowing smirk on Idris’s face as he continues, “who else could fuck you this good?”

“I’ve had better,” Primo sneers, derisive and out of breath. He’s so close and he just needs _one more_ \- 

Primo shouts, eyes widening in surprise and body struggling uselessly, as Idris shoves in a fourth finger, straight through to the third knuckle.

“Better, huh?” Idris taunts. “Your little boys dare to fuck you like this, Primo? Not too busy kissing your ass?” There’s a sudden look of glee on Idris’s face before he leans down, licking at the swollen rim around his fingers. 

Primo doesn’t know what noise he makes as Idris proceeds to suck, pulling at skin with his lips, setting nerve endings on _fire_ , and he _feels_ the rumble Idris makes in response. There’s an unholy light in Idris’s eyes from where they look up at him and Primo squirms, trying to use his calves as leverage now that they’re free. It pulls at his rim wrong, forcing him further down to the widest part of Idris’s hand. He flinches, trying to pull back immediately, but Idris follows through with a shallow, purposeful thrust.

“Greedy little thing.” Idris chuckles as he presses forward again, thumb coming around to caress the thin, sensitive skin right above the rim and stimulate the prostate from outside. “ _You take what I give you._ ”

Idris is holding him in place with an easy hand on his lower stomach, and once he starts fucking into Primo with shallow thrusts of his hand, Primo screams, thrashing in his bonds without care. It’s ecstasy in its purest form, the pressure from Idris pressing down on his prostate from the outside blends with the sensation of Idris stroking his prostate from the inside with every pass of his fingers. The widest part of Idris’s fist stretches at his rim, teasing at all the nerves there and sending sparks of pleasure throughout Primo’s body. 

There’s a quicksilver grin on Idris’s lips and he _shifts_ \- his knee now pressing down on Primo’s stomach and his hand - his hand wraps around Primo’s neck, cutting off his air again. Primo hears the wet, slick rasps coming from his own throat - in time with the wet, slick thrusts of Idris’s hand in his ass. Primo can’t do anything - can’t struggle, can’t breathe, can’t even beg - he has absolutely no control. 

Idris’s hand thrusts _just_ a little further in, pushing at all the nerves around his sensitive rim and making them _sing_ \- Primo’s entire body arches with the force of his orgasm. Pleasure subsumes him and Primo doesn’t know how to take it - can’t do anything _but_ take it - **and Idris just keeps fucking him through it**. His eyes roll into the back of his head and Primo passes out.

When Primo wakes again, his eyelids are sticky and his entire face is tacky with the feeling of dried semen - that _absolute fucker_. His hands are untied and he rubs at them unconsciously, feeling the pain in his shoulders, his back, his ass - _everywhere_. He’s getting too old for this shit.

“Why are you still here?” Primo asks as he looks around for his lighter, faking nonchalance even as he focuses his attention on Idris’s every move.

“Just wanted to make sure you woke up, my love.” 

Idris catches one of Primo’s hands and presses a gentle kiss to the wrist. Primo is too satisfied to pick a fight he knows he won’t win so all he does is yank his hand back and light his cigarette. He takes a drag, hoping to calm his nerves and will his hands steady.

“I didn’t hurt you too much, my love?”

Primo turns a gimlet glare on Idris as he takes another drag of his cigarette. There’s an impish grin on Idris’s face. He leans over to peck Primo on the forehead before he backs away, off the bed and towards the door.

“It’s okay, you can tie me up next time.” Idris is smiling, soft and innocent-like, before ducking out the door. 

And Primo burns.

\--

Primo has his men drag Idris in front of him in chains the next week, the fucker looking ever so smug on his knees. Primo smiles thinly as he dismisses everyone; he will get his.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and constructive criticism are welcome and appreciated as this is the first fic I'm posting. =3


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